


Dreams Unwind

by clare328



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Witch Harry, by which I mean it could be if you wanted it to, canon if you squint, mentions of animal blood, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare328/pseuds/clare328
Summary: A spell is more effective if he dresses for the part. Bell sleeves held up to the late afternoon light, magical in itself; the power is in the dream of it. Slides against his skin, makes him feel precious. The ritual begins now, early, before his lover travels home. Secrets are powerful too.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38
Collections: 1D Trick Or Treat Fest 2020





	Dreams Unwind

_Int._ Living room, in the hours before Samhain. Harvest is over and time has come to prepare for the cold. Such bountiful reaping, and a price must be paid to ensure it comes around again. A renewal, an acknowledgement that the cycle continues. Harry loves this time of year— a beauty in the falling leaves, a fool for crisp days and crackling fires. He feels stronger as November approaches. Braver. More willing to pull at the shackles the world insists he belongs in.

A spell is more effective if he dresses for the part. He wears his witchiest clothes, skirts swishing around his legs as he moves. Amber laid close to his heart. Bell sleeves held up to the late afternoon light, magical in itself; the power is in the dream of it. Slides against his skin, makes him feel precious. The ritual begins now, early, before his lover travels home. Secrets are powerful too.

Drags the chalk across the wooden boards, rug rolled with effort to the side of the room. Most use a pentagon, but he prefers the circle. Harder to get right, though. Stevie had warned him when he joined the coven— _careful boy, go slowly, patience is the key to power_. Taught him to hold patience as a circle in his heart, even when his chest is sick with wanting.

Lights candles with precise movements, in the order he’d been taught; thinking always of blue eyes and cheekbones and a smile that puts the whole world at ease. Precious (that word again, an intention, a feeling). Sits in the centre and pushes his focus through amethyst and smoky quartz. _Dea_ , keep him. _Branwen_ , hold him. Let no other touch him. _Please goddess_ , another year. Another year of soft whispers in the dark, of touches, of moments stolen. Keep safe, hold him to me.

Hums under breath, harmonises with the spirit sounds that rise to the ritual; but if one were to walk near, to look through a window, all they might see is a beautiful boy in a lace dress and doc martens, waving his arms at the sky and singing a tune that feels familiar, but not quite a memory. Put the thumb on.

Leather, lace, spit, polish, hum; _deam protegas me amans._ Blood in a cup— blessed, poured— he hates this part; but magic is life, is paid for with life. (He consoles his guilt by ensuring it was taken with very little pain)(the chicken it’s from will be a feast, and Harry feels better for knowing nothing is wasted). _Deam protegas me amans_. The spell ends, not with a bang or force, but in the sense of calm settling over the house, over Harry. He reaches for his anxiety, feels it there, but deadened. No longer has a grip on his heart. _Goddess, protect my lover. Goddess, protect our love._ It’s worked, then. Thank fuck. 

Cleaning a spell is as important as the building of it. Follow the order, hold your mind to purpose, adding strength and longevity. Best done by hand, even if a word could make it disappear. Rug straightened, chicken dressed and in the oven, fresh linen shirt, pyjama pants. Lights candles again, but this time simply for mood.

By the time the car pulls in the driveway— doors slamming, a drag of shoes on concrete, chatter on the phone, noises announcing _his_ presence— Harry’s no longer a witch, just a boy who makes dinner on Halloween and has a stack of scary movies ready for a night in, a boy who loves a boy who loves scary movies even if they make Harry squeal, bury his head in the shoulder. Just a boy who will do anything to protect the boy he loves from the world, and what it wants to do to them.

“Dinner and a movie for Halloween?” Louis asks as he comes into the kitchen, reaching up to kiss Harry gently. “Haz, I can’t wait.”

They smile into each other’s mouths.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. 
> 
> The spell is completely 100% made up by me, and is not meant to represent real witchcraft. This was just for Halloween fun and because the idea that Stevie has a coven of which Harry is a member tickled me. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr.


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